


Of Course It's All Right

by nialleritdidnthappen



Series: Roadtrip [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Little Spoon Harry, M/M, Pining, Pining Niall, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nialleritdidnthappen/pseuds/nialleritdidnthappen
Summary: Harry wants a cuddle, and Niall wants Harry.





	Of Course It's All Right

There’s an AC unit in the window, cranked to the highest fan speed and set as cold as possible, and it’s keeping Niall awake. He’s the first person to squash the notion that staying in five star hotels for the past five years has turned him into a snob when it comes to lodging — it absolutely hasn’t, he’s proud to have people know. But, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t grown used to fresh-smelling linens, walls without water damage and central air conditioning that was blissfully silent. While he’d never be a man to actively seek the finer things, access to such comforts had simply become his ‘normal.’ He hates that something as simple as a noisy air conditioner is enough to keep him from the sleep his body craves. 

The musty motel room is nearly pitch dark, thanks to thick blackout curtains spread over wide-set windows, but Niall has been tossing and turning in the dark long enough that his eyes are adjusting. Discerning a dresser, an analog TV, his duffle on a chair by the window, his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt on the floor where he tossed them just minutes ago, thinking maybe shedding a few layers would help him settle into sleep. 

A stirring sound in the dark, and Niall’s eyes drift to the second bed just a few feet right of his own, where a silhouette of blankets bunched into a mountain shifts around, causing the old fashioned headboard to knock into the wall a couple of times. A twist here, a turn there, then finally the lumpy pile of blankets settles into stillness again, this time with a head of messy dark hair peeking out from underneath. 

Niall thinks about whispering through the dark, checking to see if maybe he’s not alone in his failed attempts at getting a good night’s sleep. He can feel the words on his lips, opens them to speak… but the bed across the way had been so still up until that point, and the frenetic movements from a moment ago have stopped altogether, and Niall thinks he can just make out a rhythmic rise and fall of the blanket mountain. 

He sighs, a little too dramatically, and shifts onto his side, his back to the other bed. He grabs one of the too-soft, too-cold pillows and hugs it tight to his chest, curling into it, yet another attempt to find a comfortable position, something that lends itself to _sleep,_ goddamn it. 

Sheets pulled taut across his chest, cheek smushed into an unfamiliar pillow, eyes shut tight, ears cursing the jarring rumble of the AC, Niall doesn’t even notice a dip in the mattress behind him, and startles when a voice that’s scratchy with sleepiness pipes, “Niall?” 

He turns to investigate, and sure enough, the mountain of blankets on the second bed has been leveled, and Harry is sat on Niall’s own bed, a hand hovering tentatively near Niall’s shoulder, as if he’d been about to jostle him, but then thought better of it. He’s mostly silhouette, but Niall can just make out the faintest glimmer in glassy, sleepy green eyes. 

“Hey,” Niall manages, abandoning his pillow and propping himself up on his elbows, sheets slipping down his chest as he does, exposing bare skin to the chilled air. “Thought you were asleep,” he says, through a surprised chuckle. 

“Can’t,” Harry mumbles, the word melting into a yawn as he rubs his eyes childishly with balled up fists, “Sleep, that is. Too cold over there by the window.” 

“Why don’t you turn that thing off, then?” Niall suggests through an endeared smile, nodding toward the AC even though he knows Harry can hardly see him. 

“It’ll get too hot,” he says simply, and Niall laughs at the absurdity of it all. It’s a hot, sticky night out there, and despite multiple attempts to find a happy, temperate medium, freezing cold seems to be the only setting that is keeping the humidity at bay. 

Niall shrugs, and Harry must feel it, because he settles a little more into Niall’s mattress while he asks, sounding shy in a way that Harry Styles hardly ever sounds, “Is… is this okay?” 

“Is what — _oh.”_ Niall’s stomach flips and his heart skips a beat or two when he understands what Harry is asking, and yes, _of course_ it’s okay you idiot, he wants to say. 

They haven’t done this in a while. Shared a bed, just the two of them, without some combination of the other lads either in the bed along with them, or in a second bed just across a luxurious hotel room. Not since they were kids, 16 or 17 years old, have they slept together, in the same bed, in a room, _alone_. And they certainly haven’t done it since Niall’s feelings for Harry had budded into something more than mere fondness for a best mate. He wonders if the secrecy surrounding said feelings means sleeping with Harry like this would be especially unfair and deceptive. If it would be a lie. If it would be held against him later, if the judge would read it out among his countless crimes of the heart just before he received a life sentence for falling in love with his best friend. 

But Harry’s here, on his bed, already leaning in like he wants Niall to say yes, wants to feel warm and safe and _close._ So. _So._  Niall decides he doesn’t care. Decides that it’s worth it. Decides that he’d happily let them cart him away if it meant he could have one perfect night of keeping Harry warm. 

“Yeah,” he says, reaching out and placing a hand gently on Harry’s arm, inviting him in. “C’mon,” he pats the mattress on his other side, farthest from the windows.  

Harry makes a soft, contented sound before climbing over Niall like a child, laughing as he plops gracelessly back onto the bed. Niall laughs with him, feeling bubbly and nervous, like a teenager again, the sweet uncertainty of adolescent longing warm and buoyant in his chest as he lifts the blankets for Harry. They settle into each other like they’re meant to be — Harry curled on his side with his back snug against Niall’s front, sighing happily when Niall loops an arm around his waist and tucks his nose into the back of Harry’s neck. Harry’s t-shirt is loose around his lanky frame, riding up his belly, and Niall’s arm grazes the bare skin just above the waistband of his boxers, all soft and warm and sending pleasant tingles all through Niall’s veins. 

He knows the sun will rise, and with it he’ll have to let Harry go, and the impermanence of this moment hangs in the air around him and on pure instinct he tightens his hold, buries his nose a little deeper into the the tangled mess of curls. 

“All right?” Harry murmurs into the sheets, and Niall can feel the low rumble of the words bubble up from Harry’s belly.

“Mmhm,” he offers a timid nod of the head into Harry’s curls. 

Another pleasant twinge of comfort fills Niall’s chest when he feels Harry nestle deeper into their blanket cocoon, deeper into Niall’s embrace. And Harry barely makes out the words, “Goodnight, Niall,” before his soft snores begin to lull Niall to sleep. 


End file.
